


Flying With Benefits

by troubledpancakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aviation!au, F/M, Flight Attendant Bellamy, Friends With Benefits, Pilot Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubledpancakes/pseuds/troubledpancakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Clarke starts to pace a little. “It doesn’t have to been anything serious, we’re both on the go all the time. It’s rare when we have shared layovers as it is, but we just, keep in touch and see how it plays out.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bellamy lets himself smile. “You do this with all your lead flight attendants?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Clarke flushes and drops her gaze. “Well, you know my track record with pilots, so I figure it’s a safer route.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bellamy steps towards her and Clarke looks at him. He can smell her perfume, light and floral. He licks his lips. “So, you and me. Sex.”</i>
</p><p> <i>“Right. Sex. No strings, no big deal.”</i></p><p>Aviation!au, Pilot!Clarke + Flight Attendant!Bellamy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> This came to fruition because I am trash, but also, a Flight Attendant. Thus, you get spicy friends with benefits in the aviation world. And lots of smut.
> 
> Shout out to my main boo, Lauren, who helped birth this fic.
> 
> Shout outs to Brianna, M and Crystal, who all helped me look over and tweak this fic as it grew.
> 
> I wrote 8k of this in one day, I am officially insane.
> 
> Welcome aboard.

"I have seen the curvature of the earth. I have seen sights most people will never see. Flying at more than 70,000 feet is really beautiful and peaceful. I enjoy the quiet, hearing myself breathing, and the hum of the engine. I never take it for granted."

**Lt. Col. Merryl Tengesda, first African-American female to pilot the U-2**

* * *

  _December 2013_

 

Bellamy steps out of the crew room and into the hallway, turning towards the water fountain just a few feet away. He always gets dehydrated when he spends an entire day in a plane, so he likes to ensure he’s had enough water to drink before the first flight of the day.

As he leans over the fountain with his water bottle in hand and every intention to fill it up, a blonde, donning a pilot’s uniform, comes bursting through the door to the ladies restroom, attempting to flatten out any creases in her pants by running her hands over them. Bellamy raises an eyebrow and the girl nods at him sharply, clearing her throat as she passes him.

Bellamy shakes his head a little, but returns to his original task until just thirty seconds later, another woman emerges from the bathroom, straightening her blouse and wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. This time he recognizes the woman.

“Bellamy,” she says.

“Captain Abagnale.”

Bellamy has flown with Niylah on several occasions in his three years as a Flight Attendant for Ark Air, and even celebrated with her when she passed her Captain exam. In fact, they were flying the same route today.

“Headed to Boston?”

Bellamy nodded his head. “Yep, got a four day. Twenty-four hours in Vegas, though.”

“Nice,” Niylah says, smiling warmly.

“Well,” Bellamy draws out. “See you on the plane then.”

“See you.”

Bellamy finishes filling up his water bottle, still thinking about the new blonde pilot.

* * *

  _April 2014_

 

Bellamy arrives in the crew room for check-in about twenty minutes early, so he has time to grab a coffee before they get on the plane. The check-in goes smoothly and afterwards he pulls up the CrewTrac so he can see who he’s flying with.

His eyes flick over the names:

 

**Woods, Lincoln CA**

**Griffin, Clarke FO**

 

Clarke Griffin. He knows that name.

As if on cue, the crew room door swings open and the blonde-in-question barrels through the door rolling her luggage behind her. She sets it against the wall and saunters over to the computer beside him, fingernails clacking against the keyboard.

She doesn’t look at him but says, “Denver?”

“Huh?” Bellamy sputters. “Oh, yeah-- yes.”

Turning, Clarke makes a skeptical face at him.

“Cool, me too,” is all she says.

“Bellamy,” Monty says, pulling him out of his daze. “We’re getting coffee before we head to the gate. You’re in right?”

Bellamy glances back at Clarke, who has already vacated the spot beside him and was rummaging through one of her bags. “Oh, yeah. One sec.”

* * *

_June 2014_

 

“23B has an INOP seatbelt.”

Clarke flares her nose a little. “Did you call maintenance?”

“We just found the problem, I’m telling you now.” Bellamy frowns.

“It’s not a full flight.”

“Right, but it still needs to be addressed.”

Bellamy watches her blow out a frustrated breath. They have already delayed boarding due to paperwork and he can tell she’s frustrated and anxious to get going.

A second later, a maintenance worker appears at the door and Bellamy sighs in relief.

“We have an INOP seatbelt.”

The worker asks where and Bellamy tells him. After a few minutes, he has it all sorted out and clears the paperwork with Clarke and the Captain.

Clarke throws a look over her shoulder as she thanks the worker and Bellamy rolls his eyes. Captain Woods steps back on board a moment later, clapping Bellamy on the shoulder with  smile. “Ready to do this?”

Bellamy lets out a breathy laugh, when the gate agent appears.

“Ready to board?”

* * *

_October 2014_

 

By October, Bellamy and Clarke have flown together several times, and every time that they do, Bellamy feels his bitterness towards her grow. Clarke questions his ability to handle difficult situations with the passengers. Always snarking at him when he has questions for the Captain, or reports problems from the cabin.

“When I’m Captain--”

“Well, you’re _not,_ ” Bellamy interjects flatly. “You’re the first officer.”

Clarke blinks at him and then puffs out her chest. Her eyes trail over him, visibly chewing on the inside of her cheek smugly. Bellamy is suddenly self-conscious of his uniform-- fitted navy trousers, white short-sleeved shirt with navy vest and a red tie.

“Pilots,” Bellamy says with a bite. “Looking down on people since 1903.”

Surprised, Clarke tilts her head, her annoyance ever so slightly dissolving into an air of amusement. “That’s clever, did you come up with that all by yourself?”

Bellamy frowns. “Dayton, Ohio. Wright brothers?”

“Oh, I’m aware, Blake. I _do_ have my pilot’s license,” she says, adjusting the wings on her uniform.

“Great, then you can shov--”

“You guys ready to start boarding?” Maya, their gate agent, says, interrupting the pissing contest.

Clarke turns to her and smiles brightly. “We’re ready if the cabin crew is ready.”

Her voice is sugary sweet and Bellamy rolls his eyes. Grabbing the interphone he calls over the PA, “You guys ready to board?”

Sterling and Monroe both give him a thumbs up and the gate agent says, “Awesome,” and disappears back down the jet bridge.

“I am so glad we’re not staying in the same hotel tonight,” Bellamy mutters under his breath.

“Yeah, it really sucks when we have to wait on the cabin crew for thirty minutes after landing. I hate getting to the hotel early so I can have a nice glass of wine and take a long, hot bath.”

With that, Clarke turns on her heels and marches into the flight deck. Bellamy opens his mouth to say something but then the first customer service agent with a wheelchair passenger arrives and Bellamy turns on the charm. An elderly woman pushes up from the wheelchair and Bellamy grabs her bag.

“Good morning, young lady. What seat are we headed to?”

* * *

_November 2014_

 

One flight together involves a particularly nasty spat involving a medical. Bellamy misses a section on the paperwork and Clarke flips her shit.

“The paperwork needs to be thorough and complete, otherwise it comes back on us!” Clarke snaps.

“It was a mistake, just one box!”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice rises an octave. “Do it right. The first time, or I _will_ write you up.”

Bellamy scoffs. “You’re unbelievable. And _I’ll_ make sure to mention the three separate occasions of you fucking your superiors.”

It’s a low blow.

“Wow, fuck you.” Clarke recoils.

“Funny, you haven’t tried yet. I must not be elite enough to be in the _I-fucked-Clarke-Griffin Club._ ”

Clarke opens her mouth like she is going to say something else. Bellamy’s suddenly very grateful that the plane is empty. Clarke grabs the handle of her suitcase and storms off the plane.

He rubs his hand over his face and mutters, “ _Fuck._ ”

 

A week later, Bellamy is the first one of the cabin crew to step onto the plane, pulling his luggage over the lip between the plane and the jet bridge.

Clarke steps out of the lavatory and into the galley the moment Bellamy turns down the aisle.

“Blake.”

He doesn’t turn around. “Griffin.”

“Where are you going?”

Bellamy can feel her staring at the back of his head. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Flying in the back of the plane today. No lead for Bellamy this trip.” She frowns and Bellamy shrugs. “Bye!”

Bellamy sticks to his area of compliance and doesn’t have to talk to Clarke the rest of the day, even between legs. The pilots are long gone by the time they’ve deplaned after the last flight and Bellamy lets out a breath of relief.

It’s short lived.

When they get to the hotel, Clarke is passing through the lobby on her way to the bar.

“I thought you guys were downtown,” Bellamy says with a cocked eyebrow.

“Short layover,” she shoots back.

Bellamy nods in acknowledgement.

“Um, I--” she starts.

“Have a good-night,” he says, cutting her off.

Clarke swallows. “Oh, yeah. Night.”

Bellamy turns his attention back to the front desk, swiping his key off the counter quickly and heading towards the elevators.

* * *

_December 2014_

 

Bellamy stares at his phone.

_sry stuck in bos with rav, lots of love xoxo O_

For as long as he can remember, it’s just been him and Octavia. Sure, Octavia has dated. Hell, even _he’s_ dated. But he can’t remember the last time it had lasted this long.

Octavia was getting serious about this girl and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“If you keep your face like that too long, it’ll get stuck.”

Bellamy whips his head up to see Clarke a table away. They had run into each other in the lobby of the hotel in Denver, but Bellamy tends to keep to himself on his layovers and had ventured over to the bar across the street on his own.

Bellamy frowns at her and shuts off the screen to his phone, setting it next to his beer. “Oh, is that right?”

Clarke grins at him. “Oh yeah, science, dude.”

Bellamy nods, clicking his tongue.

“But, seriously,” Clarke says, somber. “You okay? I thought you were going to burn a hole in your phone.”

“Oh,” Bellamy breathes out, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, no, my sister and her girlfriend.” He nods to his phone.

Clarke gestures towards his table and Bellamy shrugs openly. Clarke gets up and slides into the seat across from him. “Your sister is gay?”

“Bi,” Bellamy corrects her.

“And she’s never been in a serious relationship with a girl?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy shrugs. “She’s never really been in a serious relationship with anyone. There was a kid, Atom, when she was in high school. But he passed away her senior year from a really bad allergic reaction.”

“So, now she’s with this girl--”

“Raven.”

“Right, so she’s with Raven and what’s the problem? You don’t like her?” Clarke stares at him expectantly.

Bellamy deflates. “Well, I haven’t actually met her. I just-- it’s always been me and O. You know? And she hasn’t even really talked to me about it, or about meeting her.”

“Okay, well…” Clarke hums, thinking. “Maybe you should just try talking to her? I’m sure she’d understand your concerns, or whatever. But you’re both adults, right?”

He nods.

“She’s probably just as nervous about the whole thing as you are, Bellamy.”

Bellamy thinks about it, knowing Clarke was probably right.

“The first real relationship I had with a girl, my mom flipped the fuck out. So, I’d say you’re doing pretty good, in the grand scheme of things.” Clarke takes a swig of her beer.

“We normally do the holidays together, and now it’s two weeks until Christmas and I have no idea what she’s planning on doing.”

“You flying?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Clarke studies him. “So, she’s probably doing the holidays with her girlfriend?”

Bellamy shrugs his shoulders pathetically. “Bellamy, you gotta let her spread her wings. Octavia-- it’s Octavia right?” Bellamy nods. “Well, Octavia is a big girl, and I’m sure Raven is wonderful. You’re going to have to trust her judgment and her wants and needs as a woman. Got it?”

Bellamy was still unsure on his stance with Clarke, especially considering their latest debacle. He’s looks at his phone, glancing at the time. “Oh, hey, I should go.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, ducking her head. “Yeah.”

“Um, thanks.”

Clarke offers him a thin lipped smile. “Sure.”

“Good-night, Clarke.”

“Good-night, Bellamy."

* * *

Bellamy doesn’t hold enough seniority to get Christmas off, but he does hold enough to get the line with his favorite layovers for Christmas. He’s been flying for a few years, and now that Octavia is spending the holiday with her girlfriend, he doesn’t feel as bad about enjoying his holiday in the air.

This year he’s opted for a Los Angeles layover, and he’s actually kind of excited about it.

The flights are surprisingly easy, an elderly woman on the leg to Los Angeles even gives the crew a bag of homemade Christmas cookies to split amongst themselves. The airline provides them with a free dinner at their hotel and Bellamy nearly jumps, slightly buzzed from mulled wine when he hears someone call his name.

“Bellamy?”

He whips around to see Clarke standing in the lobby, still in uniform.

“Clarke, hey.”

Clarke looks tired. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Clarke hesitates for a moment. “Hey, Bellamy, I nev--”

“Bellamy!” Monty and Miller stumble up behind him, knocking him forward. Bellamy reaches out to steady Monty. “We are going out!”

“Out?” Bellamy says.

“I’s freaking Chris’mas _eve_ , Bellamy!” Monty slurs.

“Clarke!” Miller says, suddenly wide eyed. “You should come too!”

“Oh, I don’t--”

“Yes!” Monty bounces on his toes, and Bellamy has to anchor him down. “Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake are coming out wi’h _us_ for Chris’mas. It’s a saturnalia miracle!”

Clarke gives Bellamy a pleading look, but Bellamy just shrugs. If he was going to get roped into their shenanigans, so was she.

Monty gets serious for one second. “What time do you have to fly tomorrow?”

Clarke flips over her badge, where she keeps her flight schedule on a small printed piece of paper. “Um, report at 1415.”

“Oh, _peeeerfect_ ,” he sings.

Clarke sighs, already resigned. “I need to go get changed. And down two shots because you guys are already way ahead of me.”

Miller shoots up straight. “I got the drinks!”

“Ten minutes.”

* * *

The bass bumps in the club and Bellamy weaves his way through the crowd. Miller and Monty are out on the dance floor already, much drunker than he is and having a wonderfully festive time. Miller is wearing a bright red Santa hat and Monty has affectionately dubbed him ‘Saint Nate.’

Clarke is wearing an outfit that he’s never seen her wear before. He slides up next to her where she’s leaning on the bar, nearly empty whiskey glass in hand. She must notice him eyeing her because she answers his silent question. “I have back to back trips, this is my New Year’s Eve outfit.”

“Interesting,” Bellamy says, taking a swig of his beer.

Clarke shrugs. “May as well get another night out of it. I look fucking hot.”

“You do look hot,” Bellamy says quietly.

“Huh?” Clarke looks over at him, the sound of the music roaring over their conversation.

“I said, do you want a shot?”

Nodding, Clarke downs the rest of her whiskey. Bellamy turns to the bartender and holds up two fingers. “Crown, please!”

Clarke takes the shot as the bartender slides it in front of her over the wet counter, clinking it against Bellamy’s glass before downing it in one go.

Bellamy watches as she closes her eyes and lets the alcohol burn down her throat. He watches as her body starts to sway with the rhythm of the bass thumping against his ribcage. Clarke opens her eyes, dark and wild and she bites her lip playfully.

“You going to ask me to dance now or what?”

Bellamy can’t help but let his eyes drag over her body. Black tank top, cut so low her breasts practically spill over the top, and skin-tight faux leather looking pants that hug every single curve she has. A single silver chain hangs from her neck, a charm settling in the valley of her breasts.

“I don’t know,” Bellamy taunts. “I didn’t think Clarke Griffin knew how to let loose.”

Clarke gapes in mock offense. “Oh. _Oh,_ Clarke Griffin knows how to let loose.”

“Prove it.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol raging through his veins, or maybe it’s months of pent up frustration, but Bellamy feels an almost feral desire coil in his belly when Clarke narrows her eyes, grabs his wrist and drags him to the dance floor.

The dance floor feels ten degrees hotter than where they stood at the bar, sweaty bodies grinding and swaying all around them. Clarke drops his wrist and turns to face him, her hand goes to her hair, pulling on the band that held it back into a messy bun. It falls loose around her face and she runs her hand through the curls and starts circling her hips.

Bellamy gets with the program two seconds later, moving his body to the beat and the moment Clarke turns around and backs her ass into him, he knows he’s fucked.

Two more rounds of shots and several songs later, Bellamy has Clarke crowded against a wall. They had stumbled down the dark hallway towards the bathroom, but were currently failing miserably at making it all the way to the semi-private bathroom stall.

The music is still bumping and lights flash in rhythm, but they remain mostly shrouded by the shadows of the long corridor. Bellamy’s hand splays across her belly and bunches her shirt up under her breasts. Clarke tips her head back against the wall, rolling her neck to the side as Bellamy attaches his lips to her throat. He wedges his leg between hers and she begins to grind down on his thigh, his free hand sliding down her side and over the curve of her backside.

She lets out a squeak when he squeezes her ass and Clarke tangles her hands in Bellamy’s hair, tugging him back to her mouth for a dirty kiss.

Everything around them is dark and loud, but neither one of them seems to mind when Bellamy slips a hand under the waistband of her pants, slowly easing a finger through her folds. Clarke arches slightly at his touch; warm, rough pads of his fingers stroking her, barely brushing against her clit, as if to tease her.

With a gasp, Clarke’s head hits the wall again and Bellamy’s fingers work relentlessly. He sinks his teeth into the top of her breast and he tastes the salty sweat that coats them both from dancing and touching and _heat._

Their bodies are so close, despite the pounding club music, all he can hear is Clarke whispering his name as she comes around his fingers. It takes her a second to recover, but when she does, she flips them around and shoves him into the corner. Dropping to her knees, Clarke fumbles slightly with the button on his jeans before undoing it and tugging them down just enough to free him from his boxers.

Clarke strokes him, hard and heavy in her hand and Bellamy groans. The thrill of it masks the tiny hope that no one will come down the dark hallway while his dick is out. He all but forgets about it the second her mouth closes around the tip, sucking and releasing with a wet pop.

Bellamy feels his eyes roll back, and Clarke’s hands are cupping his balls and his cock hits the back of her throat. She’s sucking and licking and Bellamy feels like he’s on the edge of oblivion. He blindly tangles a hand in her hair, guiding her along his length as he thrusts slightly against her ministrations.

“ _Fuck,_ Clarke, I’m--”

He feels her take him deeper as he tumbles over the edge, coming in hot spurts. She swallows him casually, and Bellamy slumps back against the wall and she pulls away. Clarke wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and rises up from her knees.

Clarke leans up and chases his lips with a long, dirty kiss.

“That was fun,” she says, voice husky, rising up on her toes to reach his ear. “Thanks.”

Bellamy gapes as Clarke walks backwards away from him with a wink. After composing himself, he tucks his dick back into his jeans and fixes himself. Clarke gives him a mock salute, and Bellamy watches her disappear back into the crowd of sweaty bodies still moving with the thumping rave. “Shit,” he says out loud, to no one in particular.

* * *

 “The desire to reach for the sky runs deep in our human psyche.”

**Cesar Pelli**

* * *

_February 2015_

 

Bellamy opens up the crew room door to a startled Clarke Griffin.

“Oh, shit, sorry I--”

“Bellamy, hi!” she says breathily.

Bellamy runs a hand through his already messy hair. “Hey Clarke, how are you? How’s your New Year?”

Clarke ducks her head. “I’m-- it’s been good. Sorry, I’m actually running late--”

“Oh shit, yeah, no, sorry. Nice to see you.”

Clarke gives him a quick, soft smile and scurries around him before taking off in the direction of her gate. Suddenly she curses, spinning around before the crew room door shuts behind him. “Bellamy!”

He whips around, foot catching the door. “Huh?”

“I--” she starts. “I never apologized for the way I acted, back in November… with the medical thing.”

“Oh.” Bellamy runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, no, it’s cool.”

Clarke ducks her head. “I know. I just-- I felt bad. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“Thanks.” He swallows thickly.

“So, we’re cool?” Clarke raises an eyebrow hopefully.

Bellamy feels a strange bubble of emotion in his stomach. _We’re cool? Like Christmas never happened? Like you didn’t blow me in a dark corner?_

“Yeah, we’re cool.”

Clarke ducks her head, nodding slightly. “Okay, cool.”

Bellamy stands there dumbly, not knowing what else to say, but Clarke gets back to it quickly. “Sorry, again!” she says, checking her watch. “ _Shit_ , sorry, bye!”

He watches her disappear behind the closing door.

* * *

_March 2015_

 

“You’re not supposed to _fuck_ the Captain, Clarke!” Bellamy crosses his arms against his chest, the two of them standing beside each other in the forward galley.

“In my defense, Bellamy, I did not know Lexa was my _Captain_ when I had my face between her thighs.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes and one of the other crew members comes trotting up the aisle. “Bellamy, can we get two bags of ice for the back galley?”

“Sure, Harper,” Bellamy says, chipper. “I’ll make sure to ask the gate agent.”

The girl smiles brightly and turns, checking each row of seats as she works her way to the aft portion of the plane. Bellamy watches her until she reaches the exit rows before turning back to Clarke, standing in front of the Flight Deck.

“Clarke, I’m just saying. This is your _job_ , your _career_. Just… be careful.” His voice drops to almost a whisper by the end of the sentence.

Clarke frowns at him. “What do you even care, Bellamy. _I’m_ the one that has to fly with her.”

“And we all have to fly with _you_ , so just, don’t fuck it up-- or her.”

She rolls her eyes and Bellamy to lick his lips, she tries not to drop her gaze to his mouth, instead retreating back to the flight deck. Bellamy clucks his tongue just as the gate agent appears.

“Ready to board?”

* * *

“I’m looking up because that’s where I want to be.”

**Unknown Source**

* * *

 

The hotel lobby is pretty deserted by the time they roll in from their last flight of the day. They all fill out the sign-in sheet and grab their keys.

Bellamy always prefers when the whole crew is at the same hotel. He is only slightly bitter that the pilots often times stay at nicer accommodations than their own.

Clarke sets the pen down on the counter and turns to Bellamy casually. “I think the bar is open for another hour, if you want to get a drink.”

Bellamy checks the time. “When is your showtime tomorrow?”

“Just one leg, not until tomorrow night.”

He thinks about it for a second before responding, “Yeah, okay. Give me like ten minutes to go change, I smell like airplane.”

Clarke ducks her head with a soft laugh. “Okay, meet down here in ten.”

Bellamy smiles, says good-night to Zoe and Harper, who are heading to their rooms for the night, and then hurries to the elevator to get to his room and change. Fifteen minutes later, Clarke scuffles up to the bar where Bellamy has been sitting for the last five minutes.

“Sorry, twelve hours in a plane makes me feel mega-disgusting.”

She’s got a fresh glow from having just showered, her hair is piled up on top of her head.

“It’s fine,” Bellamy says. “I already ordered you a beer?” He waits anxiously for Clarke’s response, unsure if that was the right thing to do.

“Oh, awesome,” she says a sigh and slides into the barstool next to him.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, sipping their beers. Clarke starts to droop, running her finger along the edge of the glass.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy nudges her slightly with his elbow.

“It’s been a long year.”

Bellamy takes a swig of his beer. “Ha, tell me about it.”

“I don’t intentionally try to hook up with my Captains, you know?”

Bellamy coughed a little. “What?”

“I know what you must think of me.”

“I don’t think anything in particular, Clarke.”

Clarke stares at him for a moment. “I know what you saw, that day at the water fountain.”

Bellamy scrunches his nose up, thinking back. “Oh, you mean with--”

“Captain Abagnale.”

Bellamy cocks his head slightly. “Niylah.”

Clarke drops her gaze to her drink. “Right, Niylah.”

Shrugging, Bellamy downs the rest of his glass and waves at the barkeep for another round, Clarke nodding as he looks at her questioningly.

“That was one of my first days on the line.” She keeps stopping, expecting Bellamy to say something, but he just watches, waits, listens. Continuing, Clarke sits up a little straighter. “My dad died the week I graduated from training. My mom didn’t tell me until _after_ she didn’t show up for my graduation. Tried to tell me she thought she was doing what was best for me by not telling me about my dad. Wanted to keep me focused on the end result. But fuck becoming a pilot if it meant I didn’t get to tell him goodbye, tell him I loved him!”

Clarke blinks back angry tears and Bellamy swallows. “He knew,” he says softly.

“Um,” Clarke clears her throat. “I just threw myself into work after that. Transferred bases just to get away from her, from everything. The last fourteen months has just been a trail of sloppy hookups and failed relationships.”

“And Lexa?”

Clarke frowns, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t even know she was a pilot. I was on vacation a few weeks ago, we hooked up. We didn’t even exchange information! When I ran into this morning--” Clarke stops, running her hand over her face. “I was just surprised to see her.”

“She didn’t seem that surprised to see _you_ ,” Bellamy points out.

Clarke’s expression sums it up. “Yeah, she apparently knew who I was, what I did.” When Bellamy raises an eyebrow she adds, “Her mother was a senator like mine, worked together in DC.”

Bellamy clicks his tongue.

“Yeeeah,” Clarke hums, chugging the last bit of her beer. “She knew who I was and still let things escalate. Bullshit.”

Bellamy nods his head in agreement and pulls out his wallet, dropping a few bills on the bar for their drinks. Dropping his feet to the floor, he slides from his seat and turns to Clarke.

“Well, I actually have a morning show, so…”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Clarke ducks her head, blushing. “Want to walk me to my room?”

Bellamy shrugs a little. “Why not?”

The elevator ride is quiet, until Clarke says, “You know, I think that might have been the first _actual_ civil conversation we’ve had in a long time.”

“Funny how likeable I am when you’re not yelling at me.”

Clarke snorts, rolling her eyes. The elevator dings and Bellamy rolls up from the wall, trailing after Clarke down the dimly lit hotel hallway. They reach room 546 and Clarke stops, turning the plastic keycard between her fingers.

Bellamy leans a shoulder against the wall. “Where do you go tomorrow, again?”

“One leg to Detroit.”

He nods.

“You?”

“Chicago, then Vegas. Twenty-four hours in Vegas,” Bellamy says with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Clarke laughs. “Nice,” she says, then drops her gaze. It’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of someone opening and closing their door on the far end of the hallway.

Clarke’s watching past Bellamy’s shoulder as the person disappears into the elevator lobby. Hesitantly, she brings her eyes back up to Bellamy’s. She knows her face is rosy from alcohol and Bellamy is watching her intently. “Thanks,” she says finally.

He shrugs. “It was two beers.”

“No, I mean--”

“Yeah,” he stops her.

“Do you want to come in?” she spits out.

Bellamy startles, jumping off the wall, reflecting back on that night in the club. “Clarke--”

“Bellamy, seriously it doesn’t have to be anything. Just another night in my messy trail of drunken hookups and meaningless one night stands.” She looks at him earnestly, and he’s returning her gaze as if studying her, trying to read between the lines.

They’ve been here once before. The single drunken hookup that neither one had spoken of since.

“I want to feel _good_ , Bellamy,” she says, voice husky and dark, stepping forward tentatively. “Don’t you want to feel good?” Her eyes search his desperately.

A single beat passes before he finally mutters, “Fuck it.”

Tangling his hand in her hair, Bellamy closes the space between the two of them, crowding Clarke against the door with a single step. His lips descend upon her, eliciting a single gasp.

Her lips are soft and pliant, like he remembers, but somehow it’s better this way. Sure, they’ve had a drink or two, but he is fully aware of the way she’s pressed against him, her hands sliding over his chest. Clarke has her room key in one hand and she pushes back on him gently so she can turn in his arms, unlock the door. They stumbled through the threshold together, the automatic lock clicking behind them. Without bothering to turn on any lights, Bellamy grabs her hips, walking her backwards towards the bed as he kisses her once more, with vigor.

She tastes like beer with a slightly fresh aftertaste from the mint he saw her chew up as they stepped into the elevator.

A soft noise escapes her mouth when the back of her knees hit the bed and she promptly sits down, dragging Bellamy over her. He braces himself on one arm above her head, toeing off his shoes. Clarke flicks her sandals off at the end of the bed.

Bellamy slides his hands under her and Clarke loops her arms around his neck, biting back a smile when he scoots them up the bed. She falls back against the mattress, bouncing. Bellamy hovers above her for a moment before leaning back to peel off his shirt.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Bellamy cocks an eyebrow.

Clarke flushes. “We didn’t get to experience this part, um--” she clears her throat. “Last time.”

Bellamy’s eyes darken as Clarke sits up, pulling her own shirt over her head and tossing it to the side.

“Yeah, shame,” he rasps, _shamelessly_ staring at her breasts. She smirks, reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. Bellamy feels his mouth go dry at the sight of them. Creamy, full and _god_ he wants to touch them.

“Please,” she says, and Bellamy leans down, taking a breast in his hand, feeling the weight of it. His mouth descends on the other and Clarke shudders, arching off the bed as he tugs a nipple gently between his teeth. Her hands grasp at the bed covers under her as Bellamy moves his mouth to the other breast, tongue circling the dusty pink peak.

Clarke reaches up and cards her fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp as Bellamy moves his attention upwards, biting and sucking the tender flesh above her breast, into the junction of her neck and shoulder. She slides her hands out of his curls, ghosting them over his biceps.

“Who knew this is what you were hiding beneath that Flight Attendant uniform,” Clarke says breathily, and Bellamy returns to her mouth, licking in her hotly. He hums, and Clarke guides her hands down his chest between them, searching for his belt buckle. “I mean, your pants definitely _fit_ and that vest--”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, pulling away. Clarke’s hands still and she blinks up at him, hair fanning out around her head on the pillow. “We don’t have to talk.”

Clarke flushes. “ _Oh_ , so you don’t want to hear about how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

Bellamy’s eyes darken and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her leggings. Clarke lifts her hips, allowing him to pull them down her legs and toss them aside.

“This?” Bellamy says, dropping a kiss to the valley of her breasts.

Closing her eyes, Clarke tips her head back and sucks in a breath.

“Or… _this_?” He bites the flesh of her belly. “How about this?” Bellamy circles his tongue around her naval and Clarke wiggles in anticipation. “Maybe, this?” Staring up at her from between her thighs, Bellamy flattens his tongue against her cunt and licks, flicking her clit playfully. Clarke’s whole body seems to sigh and she makes a soft moan that makes Bellamy’s dick twitch.

Still encased in his jeans, Bellamy pulls away, despite a whimper of disapproval, shucks them off and rolls back up to kiss Clarke again. Their bodies come together, Clarke’s nipples brushing against his, his cock bumping against her belly. Clarke wraps her arms around his middle, nails digging into the dimples in his back.

Bellamy begins to kiss down the column of her throat, mumbling, “D’you have a condom?” It vibrates against her own vocal chords and Clarke only manages to sputter out a, “ _Purse_ ,” before she arches up, Bellamy sucking a bruise right above her left breast.

Clarke’s eyes flutter open, arm reaching out to find her purse on the table by the bed. Digging through it, she finally finds the small package. Bellamy leans back, sitting on his heels between her legs, spread open for him. Clarke drops back against the pillow, fingers stilling on the condom when her eyes flit upward.

Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him over her, cock thick and ready, and his tongue darts out over his lips when he runs a hand through his hair, waiting anxiously for her. Bellamy realizes why she’s stopped and he smirks lazily, giving himself a tug.

Clarke swallows and finally readies the condom, rolling it down his shaft. As she finishes, Bellamy surges forward to kiss her, it’s mostly open mouthed, hot and wet. Clarke rolls them, bracketing her knees on either side of him as she rises up over him. Bellamy cocks an eyebrow at her and she nibbles on her bottom lip. Putting both hands on his chest, she lifts her hips and Bellamy positions his cock. Clarke drops down, allowing Bellamy to fill her up, and they both close their eyes at the surge of pleasure.

When his cock is fully buried into her cunt, Clarke circles her hips slightly, adjusting to get comfortable and Bellamy grunts. His eyes fly back open when Clarke starts to rock over him, breasts bouncing with each thrust. “How’s the view?” she asks, voice low and husky.

“Spectacular,” he rasps, reaching up to fondle her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples. His large hands, warm and calloused and _how many times has she thought about his hands_.

Her head lolls to the side, finding a steady rhythm. The dark room fills with the sounds of their slick skin slapping against each other, their breathy moans and words spurring each other on.

Clarke shifts every so often, allowing his cock to slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a new angle, hitting something inside of her that makes her toes curl.

Their movements grow faster and sloppier, and Clarke drops forward, setting her hands on either side of Bellamy’s head and she continues to rock her hips down, meeting him thrust for thrust. Bellamy captures a breast in his mouth, teeth scraping against the nipple as he releases it. Clarke’s panting grows high pitched and breathy as they both teeter on the edge of orgasm.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ ” Bellamy swears. “What do you need, Clarke?”

Clarke moans. “Almost-- _fuck!”_

Bellamy’s hand slips between them and begins rubbing at her clit. Clarke throws her head back, and pants out, “ _That-- that, keep doing that.”_

“Let go, babe, c’mon.”

Clarke feels it in her calves, every muscle coiling up, ready to spring when it hits her and she sees white. _“Oh, shit,”_ she whimpers, sagging against him, his hips still snapping forward. Bellamy rolls them over, cradling Clarke beneath him as he pumps furiously, coming just second later. He slows inside of her, lowering himself over her naked, sweaty body. Clarke relishes at the weight of him covering her, and she whines when he shifts, pulling out to see to the condom.

Clarke remains on the bed, boneless and sated as Bellamy grabs a damp washcloth from the bathroom to clean themselves up. Before he returns to the bed, he stops in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame and watching her with a hidden smile.

Clarke has tucked an arm behind her head, the other resting on her stomach as she just breathes, chest rising and falling in a lazy rhythm.

“So, that was--” Clarke starts as Bellamy crosses the room.

“A long time coming,” Bellamy finishes, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Clarke laughs and nods. “Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a second, then Bellamy moves to grab his clothes, pulling them on slowly.

“Oh,” Clarke says, clearing her throat.

Bellamy looks at her over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah.” He flushes. “I mean-- I have a fairly early show tomorrow…”

“No, yeah, of course.” Clarke shakes her head and rolls away, searching for her own clothes.

By the time Bellamy is dressed, Clarke has found a t-shirt by her suitcase and is pulling her panties up over her hips. She turns, pulling her hair loose from the neckline of the t-shirt.

Bellamy shoves his hands in his pockets, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he finally turns to the door. Clarke crosses the room, following him.

Clarke leans on the open door as Bellamy steps into the hallway. His eyes flicker to her lips and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something. He settles on, “Have a good night, Clarke.”

“Have a good night, Bellamy. Fly safe.” She smiles.

He lets out a soft laugh. “You too.” His expressions remains unreadable, but he turns and walks away. He hears the door click shut and he looks over his shoulder, unable to shake the reality of what just happened.

* * *

“When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”

**Leonardo Da Vinci**

* * *

_April 2015_

 

Bellamy is sitting in the lobby, waiting on his crew when he sees Clarke step out of the elevator. He didn’t know she had been in the hotel last night.

Clarke catches his eye and waves at him, pulling her suitcase behind her as she walks towards him.

“Bellamy, hey,” she says, eyes bright.

Bellamy feels a pull in the pit of his stomach. Clarke is dressed in her uniform, hair pulled back neatly and cap resting on her head. Her makeup is light, making her face kind of glowy and her eyes pop. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought she was attractive before, but it light of recent events, he is a thousand times more hyper-aware of Clarke Griffin.

“Hey, Clarke. Where are you headed?”

It’s only been two and half weeks since they had had sex, but Bellamy pulse still quickens when she brings her thumb to her face, rubbing at something on the corner of her mouth.

“Denver, long-ass layover though.”

Bellamy’s heart flutters stupidly. “Oh, me too.”

Clarke smiles again. “Interesting.”

Bellamy cocks an eyebrow.

“Give me your phone,” she says, holding out her palm.

Bellamy pulls it from the pocket of his sweater and hands it to her. She punches something into the screen, and he can hear her own phone beep from her bag. Handing it back to him, Bellamy checks his inbox and sees an outgoing message to a new contact, _clarke [lady in red dress emoji]_. He tries to hide his amused groan.

“Text me your room number when you guys check-in tonight,” she says casually.

Bellamy stares at her, a little unsure of what to say. Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. He stutters, “Y-yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

Bellamy watches Clarke suspiciously, curious as to whether he is reading more into this than he should, but the day plays out as normal and professional as any other day.

* * *

_rm 415 - b_

**clarke [lady in red dress emoji]** _cool you there now?_

_yeah…_

**clarke [lady in red dress emoji]** _okay ;)_

 

Bellamy isn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he changes out of his uniform, throws on some deodorant and brushes his teeth. You know, just in case.

There is a knock on the door ten minutes later, and Bellamy pulls himself up from his bed, setting his book on the bedside table. He does check through the peephole, and lo and behold, there’s Clarke.

Bellamy swings the door open and Clarke grins at him. “Hi,” she says breathily.

“Hey,” he replies. They stand there for a minute before Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Oh,” Bellamy says, shaking his head. “You wanna come in?”

She nods, sliding past him into the room. Taking a deep breath, Bellamy closes the door and then turns back to the woman in his hotel room. Clarke is wearing a tank top with a cream-colored sweater and a pair of black leggings.

“What’s up, Clarke?”

Clarke licks her lips, takes a breath, and starts to talk. “So, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us?”

“Sex.”

Bellamy blinks. “Right.”

“I was thinking we could keep doing that.”

“Sex?”

“Right.”

“O-kay,” Bellamy says carefully.

Clarke shrugs. “This job is exhausting, and it’s hard to unwind. Sex is really good for unwinding. And we’re good at that.”

“Sex?”

“Sex.”

“Right.” Bellamy clears his throat.

Clarke starts to pace a little. “It doesn’t have to been anything serious, we’re both on the go all the time. It’s rare when we have shared layovers as it is, but we just, keep in touch and see how it plays out.”

Bellamy lets himself smile. “You do this with all your lead flight attendants?”

Clarke flushes and drops her gaze. “Well, you know my track record with pilots, so I figure it’s a safer route.”

Bellamy steps towards her and Clarke looks at him. He can smell her perfume, light and floral. He licks his lips. “So, you and me. Sex.”

“Right. Sex. No strings, no big deal.”

He hums, thinking about it.

“No big deal…”

Clarke nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’m game.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, eyes flicking over her body.

“Good.”

Bellamy reaches a hand out and grips her hip, tugging her closer. “Are we starting this right now?”

Clarke shivers, Bellamy’s hand warm on her hip. She answers him by pressing up on her toes and capturing his lips with her own. Bellamy responds with his whole body, the other hand cradling her jaw.

Pulling away with, Bellamy presses his lips to her forehead and whispers. “Good, because I _really_ want to eat you out.”

“Oh, I am _so_ not going to stop you from doing that.”

Bellamy barks out a laugh and slides his hands over her ass and under her thighs, picking her up. Clarke wraps her legs around him and grinds down, kissing him again. They drop onto the bed together, fused together at the mouth. Tangling her hands in his hair, Clarke scratches his scalp, tugging gently when he nips at her bottom lip.

Pulling away from her mouth, Bellamy presses hot open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat and Clarke rolls her neck, allowing him better access.

“What time is your show tomorrow?”

Bellamy noses her neck. “Red-eye back home.”

Clarke hums. “Oh, so, it would be _better_ if you stayed up all night.”

Bellamy snorts against her collarbone. “You have any ideas to keep me awake?”

“I can think of a few,” she says, trailing off into a moan when Bellamy sinks his teeth into the top of her breast.

“First things first.” Bellamy sits up, and Clarke drops her legs, planting her feet on either side of Bellamy sitting on his knees below her. Clarke raises an eyebrow and Bellamy smirks, his hands reach for her waistband and pull her pants down, along with her panties. She watches his eyes darken and she wiggles to shrug out of her sweater, the room suddenly much too warm.

Bellamy’s too large hands cover her stomach, pushing her shirt up, bunching it below her breasts. The soft ivory skin of her belly rises with her whole body as he trails his fingers down her sides, over her ass, against her outer thigh. He grabs her thighs now, pushing them up and out, opening her cunt for him.

Clarke watches as he licks his lips. His eyes flicker up to hers. “Shit, did you realize how wet you are already?”

“What do you think I’ve been thinking about all day?”

“In the cockpit?” Bellamy quirks an eyebrow.

Clarke bites her lower lip. “ _Absolutely_ in the cockpit,” she says, accenting the _cock._

“ _Fuck,_ ” Bellamy rasps, nipping her inner thigh.

“In due time.”

With dark eyes, Bellamy peppers soft, short kisses up her thigh, approaching her center. Clarke relaxes her entire body, flopping her head back against the mattress when he finally puts his mouth to good use. He hooks one arm underneath her thigh and around her hip, bracing it over her navel to anchor her down. Bellamy pushes forward, hitching that leg higher as his tongue slides through her folds.

Clarke slowly rocks her hips against Bellamy’s face as he flattens his tongue along her slit, licking from back to front in long, slow movements, careful to avoid the clit. Using his free hand, Bellamy inserts a single finger, pumping in and out in a steady rhythm, tongue edging closer to her clit.

Her breathing shallows, coming in shorter, high pitched whines as he adds a second finger, tongue flicking her clit lightly now. Heat coils low in her belly and she listens to the obscene sounds his full lips make against her cunt. Licking and sucking, and Clarke, in desperate need of something to do with her hands, starts kneading her clothed breast with one hand. Her opposite hand reaches behind her, grasping at the sheets.

 _“Mhm, god, yes, Bellamy,”_ she says hoarsely.

He mumbles something in return, but she can’t make it out, she only feels the vibrations against her arousal. Clarke feels every muscle start to contract, her whole body tipping towards white. Bellamy doesn’t relent, scraping his teeth against her clit as his fingers crook upwards, hitting a sensitive spot inside her.

Hips bucking, Clarke grinds harder and harder, shamelessly.

It starts in her toes and she feels her climax wash over her, her entire body shudders, clenching around his fingers. Clarke comes with a breathy whine and he nearly growls at the sound. Bellamy doesn’t stop right away, just eases the intensity of it as the aftershock rolls through her.

Clarke’s whole body melts back into the mattress as Bellamy extricates himself from between her thighs. The room is dimly lit, but she can still see his mouth, red, swollen and wet. He places a kiss just below her navel and she reaches down and tugs on his hair, pulling him to her own mouth.

She can taste herself on his tongue, heady, and Bellamy runs his hands up her belly, finally pushing her shirt up over her breasts. Her tank top bunches under her armpits and Bellamy drags the cups of her bra down so he can mouth at her nipple.

It takes a minute for Clarke to remember that Bellamy is still fully clothed and she pushes him away slightly.

Bellamy’s eyes snap open and he stares down at her hungrily.

“What?” he asks.

“Clothes.” Clarke grabs at the hem of his shirt and pushing impatiently.

Bellamy laughs, the low timbre of his voice sending a throbbing ache back to her clit. He drops his feet off the end of the bed and tugs off his shirt, his pants and boxers following shortly after. Clarke sighs happily when he frees his dick, springing up proudly against his stomach. She rises up on her elbows, finagling off her tank top and bra so they are both completely naked.

He takes the opportunity to run his hands over her body again, testing the weight of each breast, tweaking the nipple. “You ready to go again?” Bellamy lowers himself down, sucking a hickey into her collarbone.

Clarke sighs, letting him work his mouth over her skin. “Maybe three more minutes.”

He hums.

“After all,” she says, reaching up to scratch his scalp. “We have _all_ night.”

* * *

_May 2015_

 

Bellamy pushes her up against the door before it’s even closed all the way. His hand runs up her thigh, pushing her skirt up. He’s already in his street clothes, having landed a few hours earlier than Clarke.

“Fuck,” he rasps into her neck, nosing at the collar of her blouse.

“Miss me?” Clarke grins, head dropping back against the door as she hitches a leg around his thigh.

“Missed _these_.” Bellamy works the buttons on her shirt, finally exposing her breasts, a lacy, light pink bra encasing her perfect rack.

Clarke snorts but is cut off by Bellamy’s mouth warm and wet against her nipple, working against the fabric with a delicious friction. Bucking her hips impatiently, Clarke whines, desperate for something, _anything_ more. Bellamy growls against her breast and she feels a throb tug at her clit.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he says again and moves his hand higher beneath her skirt, finding the waistband of her pantyhose and pulling them down. Clarke struggles to kick off her heels, wiggling around to help get her pantyhose off one leg, just enough. Her underwear comes with it and Clarke feels the wetness gathering between her legs.

Bellamy retracts one hand, working his own belt while trying to keep Clarke pinned against the door. She decides to help, pulling the belt completely from its loops, forcing open the button and shoving the jeans down his hips just enough that his cock frees from his boxers. After rolling on the condom he had in his pocket, he lifts her up against the door so she can sink down onto him.

 _“Oh.”_ She shudders, gripping at his shoulders for purchase. After a moment of adjustment, Bellamy begins to snap his hips into her, keeping her crowded against the door. One hand under skirt, one hand on her breast as he mouths the other one.

Clarke pants his name, sliding her hands from his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

The position is impossible to maintain for too long, but she doesn’t need very long. She’s been wound up all day thinking about Bellamy’s hands, his mouth, his _cock._

She comes with a moan and he follows a moment later, breathing harshly in her ear as he snaps his hips to completion.

When he slides out of her, Clarke’s feet drop back to the ground and she sags against the door. Bellamy disposes of the condom and returns his gaze to Clarke, blouse ripped open, skirt up around her waist, hair falling messily from her bun; her lips wet, eyes still dark with lust, and red marks peppering her chest.

Bellamy smirks, admiring his handiwork.

“What time you gotta report?”

“5 AM,” he answers.

Clarke looks at her watch, it was still early. “One more time to help you fall asleep?”

Bellamy laughs, already pulling his shirt over his head. “Who am I to argue with that logic?”

* * *

_July 2015_

 

They’ve been hooking up for nearly three months. Not _super_ regularly, because they don’t always have the same trips, but they’ve definitely slept together on at least seven different occasions at this point.

Their hotel in Portland has a really fancy shower, the one with a bench that you can sit on, and Clarke drops her towel as soon as Bellamy gets in the room, leaving the bathroom door open as an invitation.

It’s wet and slippery, so they can’t do much, but Clarke sits on the bench while Bellamy eats her out, and Bellamy makes good use of lathering up her breasts with the lavender scented soap as they stand beneath the stream of hot water. He really fucking loves her breasts and she really fucking loves his hands, so everyone wins.

“You going back to your room?” Clarke asks from the bathroom as she towel dries her hair. Bellamy is tugging on a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, rifling around for a t-shirt.

She steps out into the main room and watches him pull on the shirt, twitching her mouth. “You know The Walking Dead is on tonight.”

Bellamy hums, zipping up his bag.

“I swiped a few bottles of Jack from the flight, if you, I don’t know,” she says, ducking her head, “wanted to stay.”

Bellamy stills. “You want me to stay?”

They didn’t really _do_ that. They meet up, they fuck, they go back to their own rooms.

“Sure,” she says, voice rising an octave.

“Oh, yeah, okay, that sounds fun.”

Clarke smiles and steps back into the bathroom, dropping the towel on the floor and reaching for her brush.

Bellamy stands in the middle of her hotel room, slightly confused but mostly okay with it. He drops back on the bed, kicking his shoes back off and making himself comfortable.

* * *

_August 2015_

 

Bellamy rolls his shoulders, they’ve been on the plane for nearly ten hours and he just wants to get to his hotel and crash. The final group of passengers is deplaning and Bellamy keeps his face pleasant, thanking each one of them as they leave the aircraft.

He pulls out his phone to call the hotel shuttle when he sees a text from Clarke.

 

 **clarke [lady in red dress emoji]** _got rerouted to baltimore, ur here right?_

_just landed_

**clarke [lady in red dress emoji]** _[smiley face emoji] nice i’m in 413, come say hi_

 

Bellamy turns off the screen, smiling to himself.

He knocks on her door once he arrives at the hotel and she opens it, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Bellamy groans and she grabs his tie and pulls him into the room.

Shoving his luggage off to the side, Bellamy cups her face kissing her quick and dirty. He pulls away and Clarke hangs onto his tie, fiddling with it while biting her lower lip.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she replies, bringing her gaze back to him. Her eyes are clear and blue, free of whatever makeup she has to wear normally. She was beautiful.

“Tough day?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Bad weather in Minneapolis. Typical.”

Bellamy kisses her forehead, suddenly remembering how tired he was.

Clarke frowns at him. “You okay?”

Sighing, he smiles softly at her. “Just a long day. Did Orlando to Atlanta… So. Many. Kids.”

“Oh, yikes.” Clarke runs a hand down his chest comfortingly. “You look tired.”

He nods.

“You just wanna make out and watch HBO?”

Tipping his head back, Bellamy laughs. “Okay, but,” he says after a minute. “I know a better way to de-stress than HBO and whiskey.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, orgasms.”

Clarke licks her lips. “Well, obviously. But, we’ve got a little time, right?” Bellamy nods. “We can relax a little, work our way up to it.”

Bellamy’s eyes drop to her chest. “Well, if we’re not going to have sex right away, you’re _definitely_ going to need to put on some more clothes. Because, that’s just not fair.”

Clarke’s laugh is one of his favorite sounds. “Yeah, I get it, I get it.” She winks at him and tugs on his tie for another kiss. He watches her saunter over to her bags and pull out a sleep shirt before dropping onto the bed and curling up under the covers.

He stands there dumbly for a minute as Clarke flips through the channels. “You comin’?” she says, grinning playfully.

Bellamy snaps out of his haze and shakes his head at her warmly. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a few minutes.”

He repositions his bags and digs out some sweats, not bothering to change in the bathroom. Bellamy feels Clarke’s eyes on him as he undresses.

“What?” He frowns.

“Nothing,” she says hoarsely.

Continuing with the buttons on his shirt, Bellamy shrugs. Another second later he hears her sigh. “ _What?_ ” he asks again, shirt completely unbuttoned, revealing his white undershirt.

“Nothing,” she says again earnestly. Bellamy cocks an eyebrow at her. “Okay, fine. You just, _damn_ , you really work that uniform, you know?”

“Oh, is that so?”

Clarke nods, flush in the cheeks.

“What’s your favorite part of my uniform?”

Clarke’s whole chest grows red. “I mean, that vest just fits you so nicely. And your ass in those pants, honestly. But,” she says slowly, crawling to the end of the bed. “I don’t even know what it is about that tie. Gets me hot.”

“My tie.”

“Mhm,” she says. “Think it would look good on me?”

“Depends on your outfit,” he teases.

“Well, let’s see.” She reaches down, pulls her t-shirt off, unclasps her bra from behind her and wiggles out of her panties in thirty seconds flat. “How about this outfit.”

Bellamy groans, feeling his cock twitch beneath his fitted trousers. “I thought we were going to watch HBO.” He suddenly doesn’t _really_ care how tired he is anymore, he just wants to fucking _touch_ her.

“Why HBO when you have two perfectly good breasts right here?”

“Fuck.”

Clarke crosses the room and grabs his tie, loosened but still knotted, sitting on the bed. She pulls it over her head and tightens it just a tiny bit, and the tie settles between her tits.

Bellamy shakes his head. “You’re the worst.”

Clarke gives him a shit-eating grin, and Bellamy reaches out and tugs on the tie, forcing her forward another step into his space. “We can watch HBO later, I promise,” she says innocently. “I just can’t help how fucking turned on I get when I see you in your uniform.”

Bellamy lunges forward and kisses her, his hands covering the expanse of her bare back. Clarke tugs on his bottom lip and pushes his shirt off his shoulders, and Bellamy makes quick work of his undershirt.

He’s naked by the time they reach the bed and Clarke turns them and pushes him onto the mattress. “I know you’re tired,” she says. “Let me do the work.”

Bellamy’s stomach flips and Clarke reaches for her bag on the bedside table, procuring a condom. She rolls it on with finesse and then sinks down onto him with a sigh. He loves this view. Hair hanging over her shoulders, breasts bouncing with each thrust. He grips her hips and lets her do her thing.

She plays with a couple of different movements: rocking, grinding, circling, until she finds what feels best for her and sets a rhythm.

Clarke rides him wearing just his tie, and Bellamy just _has_ to tug on it, pulling her chest flush with his own.

“Fuck, Bellamy, _I need--_ ”

“What do you need, babe, what can I do?” he rasps, snapping his hips up to meet her thrusts.

Clarke pants. “Touch me.”

Bellamy snakes a hand between them where they come together, finding her sensitive and wanting. He rubs at her clit, and she makes a sound that nearly sends Bellamy over the edge.

“ _Yeah, fuck-- right there,_ ” she whines.

She starts to clench around him, cunt fluttering as he starts to come at the same time. For a moment the whole room is filled with their voices, panting each others names as their bodies ignite their climaxes.

It takes them a few minutes to move, after, Clarke lying across Bellamy’s chest.

Bellamy keeps his eyes closed for a second and Clarke kisses his neck lazily.

“You going to fall asleep?” Clarke says, lips to his collarbone.

“Probably,” he admits.

He feels her smile on his skin before she rolls off of him. He starts to get up to discard the condom, but she takes it from him and tosses it in the trash bin. His breathing has slowed by the time she crawls back into the bed, this time with her sleep shirt back on, and probably her panties.

Bellamy faintly recognizes her pulling the covers up over both of them and curling into his side before he completely passes out.

* * *

_October 2015_

 

The lines begin to blur after that.

Usually, whoever has the later arrival schedules hotel buyback, and they just use one room. They use the payout to treat themselves to dinner.

It’s cold and rainy in Seattle, and they’ve both been here a dozen times and didn’t really have a desire to venture out. So, they order a pizza and Bellamy gets a few beers from the hotel bar and brings them back to the room.

He lays down on one bed and watches her.

“How many pillows do you need, honestly, Clarke?”

Clarke is grabbing all the pillows from the empty bed and tossing them at him.

“All of them.”

“Why?” he grumbles, sitting up so that Clarke can nestle all the pillows along the headboard.

“Dude, pillows.” She looks at him like he’s crazy, waving her hand at the giant pile of pillows now on their bed.

Bellamy cocks his head. “I understand what pillows are.”

Clarke hops onto the bed, almost on top of him. Flopping down beside him, she nestles herself into the pillow puddle she has created. “That’s why.” She grins lazily at him, hair fanning out on the pillow around her head, like a little halo.

His stupid heart does a stupid little flip, and it’s stupid.

He leans down to kiss her, slow and deep.

They pull away, a little dazed, and Clarke’s stomach growls, throwing them into a small bout of laughter.

“Right. Pizza,” Bellamy says, a little breathless.

“Then sex,” Clarke says, bouncing off the bed.

Bellamy lets out a small huff, a secret smile. “Right, then sex.”

* * *

“I think it is a pity to lose the romantic side of flying and simply to accept it as a common means of transport.”

**Amy Johnson**

* * *

_November 2015_

 

“You know,” Clarke calls from the bathroom.

“Hm?”

“We should go out when we’re in San Diego next week.”

“Say what?” Bellamy rounds the corner and leans on the doorframe. Clarke is standing at the mirror in her bra and underwear fixing her makeup.

Clarke shrugs, dropping her mascara away from her eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t been to San Diego for a long layover in _months._ I love San Diego.”

Bellamy can’t help but smile.

“We could rent a car and drive out to the wine country. You have like 21 hours right?”

He nods, still smiling as Clarke runs her finger under her eye, trying to wipe away some rogue mascara. She watches him in the mirror, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Clarke turns so she’s actually facing him.

“Like what?”

Clarke flushes. “Like that, I don’t know!” She waves her arms about.

“We’ve never really done anything but like, HBO, pizza and sex.” Bellamy shrugs.

Clarke steps towards him, and he’s hyper aware that she is still in her underwear. “We can still do those things.” She walks her fingers up his chest. “How much time do I have?”

Bellamy looks at his watch. “You have to be down in the lobby in half an hour.”

She thinks it over for a half a second before setting her makeup brush down, and sinking to her knees. His zipper is undone and she pushes his jeans down his thighs before he has a chance to react. Her hands are cool and soft, and he’s already getting hard as she strokes him. She licks up his shaft with one long and slow stroke before gazing up at him.

“Long enough.”

* * *

“People always ask me when I’m going to come down from the clouds. My answer is never. I love this view.”

**Unknown Source**

* * *

_January 2016_

 

“I passed!”

Clarke throws herself into Bellamy’s arms when he opens the door. She smells like fruit and she’s nearly bursting with energy. She has her pilot's hat on for a change and Bellamy nearly knocks it off when he wraps his arms around her.

Pulling back, Bellamy beams at her. “So, you did it.”

“I did it.”

“Captain Griffin.”

Clarke’s heart flips, nervous energy tingling throughout. She takes a minute and nods, still grinning. Pulling her suitcase farther into the room, she starts unpacking her person: setting her jacket on the back of the chair, dropping her hat onto the dresser. She spins back around and takes a good look at Bellamy.

“I got you something,” he says, hesitant.

“What? Bella--”

“Before you thank me, you should open it.”

He hands her a small bag and she takes it from him, pulling out the tissue paper and finding a small black t-shirt folded up. Clarke holds it up so she can read it.

 

_Pilots. Looking down on people since 1903._

 

“Oh my god,” she balks.

Bellamy gives her a shit-eating grin. “Congrats, Captain Griffin.”

Clarke feels a pull at her core, and she cradles the t-shirt close to her chest. “Thank you,” she laughs. “I love it. Give me a few minutes?”

“Mhm.”

Clarke kisses him on the cheek and grabs something from her bag, disappearing into the bathroom. Bellamy drops down on the edge of their bed, they had a king this time around, and lies down, feet still planted on the ground.

After a short time passes, Clarke emerges from the bathroom in his gift, and not much else.

“Hellooo,” he says, and Clarke crosses the room cautiously, stepping between his now parted thighs.

She bites her lip. “Did you have anything else you wanted to give me? You know, as a congratulations.”

Bellamy’s eyes darken. “Oh, I have something else I can give you.”

Clarke helps him with his shirt frantically before Bellamy grabs her and drops her onto the mattress, crawling over her. He grinds down, his cock pressing hard against his jeans and into her cunt. Her panties are already damp and Bellamy kisses her, their whole bodies aligned on the bed.

They get a little lost in kissing each, and Bellamy almost forgets what he set out to do. Clarke hitches her legs up, bracketing his hips and she moans, rocking her hips trying to find friction.

Bellamy drags his lips across her jaw, nipping at her earlobe. He quickly drops back on his heels and looks at Clarke, flush and relaxed. Her legs drop from his hips and she plants her feet on the bed.

He spreads his hands out over her pelvic bones and running them up her stomach, bunching the t-shirt up near her breasts. He lets them slip under the fabric and squeeze her breast, flicking his thumb over the nipple.

Clarke lets out a shaky breath, and wiggles her hips impatiently.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bellamy says, running his hands back over her smooth belly and bracing her hips. He leans down and drops a kiss below her navel. “I got you.”

She smiles at him.

“Hey,” he says suddenly. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Now, eat me out, please.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Getting rid of her panties is quick, and he runs a single finger up her slit. Clarke arches slightly and Bellamy sucks her juices off his finger and returns for a quick, dirty kiss.

She can taste herself on his tongue and she huffs when he pulls away.

Bellamy settles his face between her parted thighs, and she opens them wider when he starts peppering kisses closer and closer to her cunt.

“God, Cap, you’re so fucking wet.”

Clarke turns her head so she can see him. “Call me Captain one more time.”

Bellamy nips at the junction of her hip. “Captain Griffin.”

“Mhm,” she moans and Bellamy licks into her. Her eyes snap shut and Bellamy sets to work with his tongue, quick, short strokes through her folds.

It turns out Clarke really gets off on Bellamy calling her Captain, judging by the way she comes, hard, fast, seeing white, Bellamy whispering her name as his fingers work her through the aftershock.

* * *

“I’m at home in the clouds.”

**Unknown Source**

* * *

_February 2016_

 

Clarke lays on top of Bellamy, and his fingers stroke up and down her back.

“How’s your sister?” she mumbles, face tucked into his neck.

“She’s good, thanks.” Bellamy’s lips brush her hair.

Clarke’s foot rubs up and down his leg lazily. “She and Raven still together?”

“Mhm.”

“Tell me about her.”

Bellamy pulls back, craning to see her face. Clarke looks at him earnestly.

“Um, she’s twenty-one. She goes to school in Boston.”

Clarke kisses his shoulder casually. “What is she studying?”

“International relations.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I mean, she was fifteen when I started flying. She saw all the cool places I got to see and things I got to do. I took her to Guatemala with me when I was flying there pretty regularly with my first airline.” Bellamy rubs small circles into the divots in her lower back. “My mom died just before I turned twenty-one, and I was able to get custody of O. I dropped out of community college so I could work and support her.”

Clarke puts a hand on his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

Bellamy shrugs. “She was pretty messed up.” Clarke kisses his chin. “I was able to get the job at my first airline when I turned twenty-one. It was an easy way to earn money without a degree, plus it has pretty good perks. Octavia was in high school, so she was capable of looking after herself when I was on my trips. But, I also had chunks of time that I could spend with her, sometimes we’d travel together, stay at crew hotels and couchsurfing, using my flight benefits, walking tours, you know.”

Clarke nods and snuggles closer.

“I don’t know. Octavia had always been so much more independent that I ever thought. We never had much growing up either, but she turned out okay.”

She smiles. “You did okay, too.”

Bellamy ducks his head, but Clarke wiggles up to kiss him. It’s slow and exploratory, like they have an infinite amount of time. Bellamy’s hands wander, touching all the skin he can and Clarke’s hands curl into his messy hair.

It was like this more often, now. Laying in bed, post-coital bliss, talking and kissing and touching. Bellamy would tell her stories of myths and legends. They’d both sit on their phones and look up dumb facts on wikipedia or Clarke would force him to watch whatever dumb movie was on the Lifetime channel that afternoon.

There is a knock on the door and it startles them out of their embrace.

Bellamy kisses the crown of her head. “I got it, hang on.”

He slides out of the bed and tugs on his sweatpants.

“Champagne and strawberries, compliments of the hotel!”

“Oh, wow, thanks?” Bellamy mutters.

He closes the door and turns back to Clarke, tucked into the sheets. He can still make out the curves of her body, naked beneath the fabric.

There’s a small card with the items that concierge brought.

 

_Happy Valentine’s, from all of us!_

 

“Oh, it’s Valentine’s Day,” he says.

“Huh.”

“I didn’t even realize.” Bellamy drops the note on the table and grabs the two glasses from the cart and tucks the bottle of champagne under his arm. Back on the bed, Clarke sits up, not caring to keep herself covered with the sheet and Bellamy can’t help but lean over and kiss her.

It’s a little stiff, and Bellamy tries not to be offended, pouring each of them a glass.

“To us,” he says, tipping his drink towards him.

She offers a small smile and clinks her glass against his before taking a sip.

The whole air of the room seems to have shifted and Bellamy can tell. “Hey, Clarke,” he says, pulling her from a daze. “What’s wrong, did I do something?”

“No, no, of course not.”

Bellamy doesn’t buy it. He takes her glass from her, and sets them both on the nightstand, earning a scowl and he grabs her shoulders gingerly, keeping her face in front of his own. “What happened in the last fifteen minutes to bring you down, Clarke? We were having a great day.”

“What are we doing?”

The air rushes out of Bellamy’s lungs. “What do you mean what are we doing?”

“This,” she says, waving her arm between them (and it would be a lot less distracting if she had a shirt on). “You and me.”

Bellamy frowns. “I don’t know. I thought we were having fun, unwinding. Isn’t that what you said? No big deal.”

Clarke swallows. “Yeah, right, no big deal,” she says bitterly.

“Hey, what?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“So?” he breathes.

“And we’re lying in a hotel room together, naked, drinking champagne and there is a cart of fucking strawberries in the corner!” Her face is a little pink and her eyes go glassy.

“Clarke…” Her eyes drop and Bellamy tucks a finger under her chin and forces her to look at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she says, voice hitching. “No, you’re fine. I-I should go.”

“Go?” Bellamy starts to freak out slightly. “Clarke, you don’t have another room.”

Clarke is already re-clasping her bra and tugging her panties over her hips. “It’s fine,” she says, grabbing a shirt from the floor.

“That’s mine.”

She huffs and tosses it on an empty chair and grabs another shirt from her suitcases. “I’ll text Harper, I know she’s here. She’ll let me crash.”

“Clarke--”

“It’s fine, Bellamy. I’m just-- I just need to--” Clarke is throwing all of her things into the suitcase, distractedly moving from one spot to another and Bellamy is watching her, heart pounding in his ears.

“ _Clarke!_ ”

She stops.

He gets off the bed and crosses the room to where she is standing. Cupping her face, he looks her in the eyes. “What is going on?”

Her nose flares and she swallows thickly. “I think,” she says quietly. “I think I need some space.”

“Some space,” he repeats dumbly.

“Yeah.” Clarke zips up her suitcase and sets it on the ground. She turns to the door and Bellamy grabs her wrist. “Please,” she says. “Let me go.”

Bellamy lets go of her wrist and she walks away. Out the door. He can’t stop her.

* * *

“Aviation is the branch of engineering that is least forgiving of mistakes.”

**Freeman Dyson**

* * *

_April 2016_

 

He hasn’t seen her in eight weeks. Not since she walked out of that hotel room.

His phone is full of one sided text conversations because she won’t text back.

They were just having fun, no big deal.

If it was no big deal, why the _fuck_ did he feel like this?

He missed her.

He logs in to the crew room computer to print out his trip information. After he checks-in, he checks to see who his crew is.

 

**Griffin, Clarke CA**

 

He doesn’t even bother to read the rest. His vision goes kind of spotty.

“Fuck.”

He steps on the plane and she’s there, exiting the flight deck.

“Bellamy, oh,” she says, clearly shaken.

Bellamy bites his cheek. “Hey.”

“Look, I’ve been meaning--”

“Hey, it’s fine. No big deal, right?” he says coldly.

Clarke snaps her mouth shut. “Right. No big deal.” She gives him a nod and shuffles around him to go do her walk around.

Bellamy tries not to watch her go, fighting down the pang in his chest.

Take-off is normal, it isn’t until halfway into the flight that he can tell something is wrong.

Turbulence he knows, he can deal with. But, the shaky movements the plane is making makes him uneasy. As if on cue, the Call Captain bell rings and Bellamy picks up his interphone.

“Hey, we’re having some issues with the hydraulics.”

“Like, emergency issues?”

She’s quiet for a minute.

“We need to talk through the Emergency procedure. Please call your crew and inform them, then call me back.”

Bellamy thinks he’s says, “Okay.” Everything after that is a blur.

* * *

_April 2016_

 

Police Officers carry their guns with them every time they go to work. But if you ask someone who has been on the force for twenty years, “How many times have you had to shoot your gun?”, chances are, it’s maybe one time. Of course, there are your exceptions.

Flight Attendants spend weeks in training, learning how to handle emergency situations, how to work emergency equipment, how to get 180 people off a plane in less than two minutes. If you ask a Flight Attendant, “How many times have you had to execute an emergency landing?”, chances are, it’s _maybe_ one time. Most Flight Attendants could go their whole careers without having to deal with an emergency of that caliber.

Most of it was a blur. The training and the adrenaline kicked in.

This was what they were trained to do.

He didn’t even have time to think about it.

When it was all over, he saw her.

_Clarke._

There was a moment of suspension. Their eyes met and he physical watched her body deflate. Like, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Nothing had to be said. Nothing could be said.

He couldn’t go to her. He had people to look after, give directions, too. Once the firetrucks and ambulances got there, Clarke was talking to ground control and medical, and he lost track of her.

The whole day was a blur.

* * *

“I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things.”

**Antoine de Saint-Exupery**

* * *

_May 2016_

 

In the chaos of the evacuation, somehow Bellamy ends up with one of Clarke’s tote bags.

Her dad’s watch is looped through the handle, right next to her crew tag. He looks at it, sitting on his kitchen counter.

_Call her._

He swears.

_Ringing, ringing, ringing._

“Hello?”

“Clarke, hey,” he says, almost out of breath.

“Bellamy.” Her voice is soft, timid.

He clears his throat. “I, um, I picked up your bag at the evacuation site. I thought you might need it. Are you home?”

“Oh,” she sounds surprised. She probably didn’t even realize it was gone. “Yeah, I am. But, you can totally leave it in the crew room if--”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Clarke is silent for a second. “Okay, um, I’ll buzz you up.”

Her apartment building isn’t too far from the airport, and he finds a spot in the guest lot. The main entrance has a callboard and he hits her apartment number; seconds later a buzzing sound lets him through.

He finds himself in front of her door and suddenly he wants to turn around. Before he can, the door swings open.

“Hey.”

That’s all she says and his heart leaps into his throat.

She’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top, hair piled on top of her head and sock monkey slippers on her feet.

“Hey,” he replies.

“Do you want to come in?”

He nods and enters as she steps back. Clarke closes the door behind them and then leans against it.

Bellamy holds up her tote. “I brought this.”

“Oh, good, I was worried you’d forget,” she teases.

Bellamy sets it on her counter and looks around. Her apartment is neat, and quiet. He knows how often he’s in his own apartment, it must be even quieter without a roommate.

“How are you holding up?”

Clarke sighs, but smiles. “A little shaken up still, but okay. I go back on the line on Saturday.”

“All in a day’s work, huh?” he offers lightly.

He can’t take the palpable tension.

“I missed you.”

This catches Clarke off guard, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Goddamnit, Clarke,” Bellamy says, trying to keep his cool. “What the fuck happened? I don’t hear from you for two months? You walked out that hotel door, and I haven’t heard a single damn word from you.”

Clarke looks like she’s been hit by a truck. Her chin wavers and she starts to speak. “Fuck, Bellamy. I don’t know. Okay? I _don’t know._ ” Bellamy crosses his arms against his chest. “I freaked out. It came out of the fucking blue. All of the sudden it was _Valentine’s Day_ and I’m stuck there wondering what the _fuck_ we are!”

“I never put any pressure on you!”

“Well maybe that was the problem!” she shouts.

Bellamy takes a step backwards. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means!” She stops. “It means, I don’t know what it means. Okay? I just freaked out, and then I saw you on the ground after everything happened and you were _okay_ and I thought my heart was a dam about to burst, okay?”

Bellamy’s feature soften.

“I never wanted this. I didn’t ask for it. This was just… this was just supposed to be _fun_ \-- a way to let loose!”

“So what changed that?!” Bellamy says hotly. “I was fine being in love with you and just fucking around like we were, because I still _got to see you,_ I got to be with you, and _touch_ you.”

Clarke inhales sharply. “W-what?”

Bellamy scowls. “What do you mean, _what?_ I made my peace with being this, what this was, because I thought it’s what you wanted. And if it meant I had just a little piece of you, then I was okay.”

“You were in love with me?”

Bellamy scoffs, and the two stare at each other.

“I can’t really win, here, Clarke.”

“There’s no winning, Bellamy!”

“Then what do you want from me?” He licks his lips.

Clarke takes a hesitant step away from the door. “Tell me how you _feel_ about me, present tense.”

“It’s not that simple,” he starts.

“Make it that simple.” Clarke crosses her arms against her chest.

“I didn’t think you _wanted_ anything from me. I never said anything because I didn’t want to fuck it all up. I was afraid if I told you how I felt, then you would pull away. I didn’t want to make it a Big Deal.”

“Oh,” she whispers.

Bellamy closes their gap by another step. “And what about you? I’m not the one who walked out of that hotel room because I was scared.”

“No, you were only too scared to tell me how you felt, so you didn’t do anything at all.”

“Oh my god!” Bellamy nearly laughs. “Both of us are fucking idiots, Clarke. You were scared, I was scared. _Talk to me._ I’m here. Right now, in front of you, telling you that I am in love with you.”

“Okay.”

“Fuckin-- _okay?_ Okay?! Jesus Christ Clar--”

“I love you, too.”

That shuts him up.

“What, you do?”

“I do. My chest feels tight when I’m not with you, and when I saw that you were okay, I wanted so badly to come to you, to kiss you, hold you. But, I had a fucking job to do.”

Bellamy takes another step. “Eight weeks, Clarke. You didn’t even return a single message.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I am so sorry.”

They are only a foot away from each other now.

“I’m sorry, too, for not saying anything.”

Clarke shakes her head. “I’m such a dumbass.”

Bellamy reaches out and grabs her wrist, pulling her towards him. Her arms instinctively go around his waist and Bellamy threads his hands through her hair, thumbs rubbing at her jaw. “I think we can safely say we’re both dumbasses.”

Clarke leans forward and rests her forehead on his sternum. Bellamy wraps his arms around her shoulders and they stand there for a moment, just holding each other.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs into her hair.

She vibrates against his chest. “Not just my boobs?”

Bellamy laughs this time and Clarke props her chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“Clarke, you have the _best_ boobs. But, I missed _you._ Your laugh, your insane need to watch every new Lifetime movie that premieres on the channel, your meticulous routine for your makeup before work. I missed _you_. It’s not magically going to be perfect. We’re far from that. But we get to move forward, right?”

Clarke nods, and kisses his chest. “We get to know each other, _really_ know each other.”

“Did you know that I own, like, twelve copies of the Odyssey.”

Clarke groans. “Oh my goooood, you’re such a nerd.”

Bellamy gives her a quick squeeze and kisses the top of her head.

“I don’t think I ever told you I paint, did I?”

“What?” Bellamy gapes. “We’ve been hooking up for a _year_ , and I didn’t know you were an artist?”

Clarke shrugs. “It’s really personal.”

“Can I see something?”

“Yeah,” she says, “okay.”

She takes his hand and leads him into the apartment. Bellamy trails behind her slowly, looking at all the photos on the wall. He wants to know this part of her, _every_ part of her. Clarke stops at a door at the end of the hall and opens it. They both enter the room and Bellamy stares at the wall. A large canvas hovers over the headboard, it’s all colors and lines and, it’s beautiful.

“Clarke--”

“It was in memory of my dad.”

He turns to her, hands running up her arms. “It’s beautiful.”

Clarke gazes up at him, taking in his features as if to memorize them. After a moment, she pushes up on her toes and kisses him. There’s no urgency to her kiss, but she puts everything she has behind it. Her body steps flush into his, Bellamy’s hands settling at her waist, hers tangled in his hair.

They take a few minutes, kissing like they were breathing. They touch each other like it’s the first and last time they will get to. Eventually, Clarke pulls him towards her bed, the comforter tucked neatly into the frame and a dozen pillows lining the headboard.

Clarke sits down on the mattress and scoots as Bellamy follows, crawling over her. His whole body covers hers and she tangles her legs with his.

Bellamy drags his lips across her cheekbones and down her jaw, and Clarke hums. “I love this.”

“Hm?”

“How you feel, on top of me.” Her voice is deep and husky, and Bellamy meets her eyes, their whole bodies still fused together.

He licks his lips, eyes flicking from her mouth to her eyes. Bellamy reaches a hand back and runs it up her leg, hitching it over his hip. Clarke leans up and kisses him and it’s all together not enough and too much. Dipping a hand beneath her shirt, Bellamy’s palm presses into her belly, thumb circling her navel. Clarke reaches over his shoulders, grappling with the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull it over his head.

The whole undressing process continues like this. Mouths and hands anywhere they can touch until they are both naked. Bellamy noses at her breast, tongue circling her nipple. The buildup is almost too much, when Bellamy finally _touches_ her, she feels like she could explode.

She arches up and Bellamy laughs into her breast, nipping at it playfully.

“I need you… _inside_ _me,_ ” she manages to grit out as Bellamy fingers her clit. “I’m on the pill, please, just--”

Bellamy doesn’t need to hear her say it again, he grabs his cock and positions it in front of her entrance. He teases the head through her folds, already wet for him. He gives himself a tug, trying to spread her slick juices over himself in preparation. A second later, he’s moving into her.

He brings one hand under her knee and pushes it up and back, opening her cunt up for him. His cock slides through her folds as he rocks against her.

“ _Holy shit,”_ Clarke moans. “I fucking missed you.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy leans over, tweaking a nipple between his teeth. He laves over the same spot with his tongue, and then blows on it, sending a shiver through her whole body.

Mapping her body with his hands, Bellamy never lets them linger too long in one place, desperate to make her body feel good. They let their bodies do most of the talking, responding to each other’s movements.

“Hey, _hey,_ ” Clarke rasps as Bellamy snaps his hips, his movements becoming more erratic. “ _Kiss me._ ”

Bellamy leans in close, their bodies completely flush to each other. His mouth finds hers and it’s teeth and tongues, harsh panting when the tension becomes too tight, both of them about to snap.

Clarke feels it coming, her whole body tensing, her toes curling. She keeps in rhythm, matching him thrust for thrust. Bellamy swears in her ear, sweat dripping from his curls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck, c’mon Bellamy,” Clarke counters. Her fingers find her clit and all it takes is a few quick rubs to send her over the edge, her cunt fluttering around his cock as he follows. He fills her up, slowing his movements as he finishes.

Clarke collapses back, her whole body jelly.

Bellamy pulls out and Clarke curls herself around him, slotting a leg through his thighs and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I love being the little spoon,” he muses.

Clarke laughs into his shoulder blades. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers, barely audible.

Bellamy places a hand over hers and tightens her embrace around him. “I love you.”

“You, too.”

* * *

“Aviation is proof that given, the will, we have the capacity to achieve the impossible.”

**Eddie Rickenbacker**

* * *

_May 2016_

 

“No. Absolutely not, that is disgusting.”

Octavia makes a face at her brother. “So you’re saying you’ve never done it on the plane.”

Bellamy scowls. “The mile-high club is not an aspiration. Do you _know_ how often those lavs get deep cleaned, O? Not enough!”

“Ew.”

Bellamy huffs. “Yeah, ‘ew’ is right. Also, I do not want to discuss my sex life with you. Ever.”

Octavia shrugs, jumping off the counter. “Whatever. I can’t believe I still haven’t met her.”

“You’re meeting her today,” Bellamy protests.

“Yeah, after months of begging and you sleeping with her for a fucking _year_. Besides, you have to tell her--”

There’s a knock at the door, Octavia squeals and Bellamy shoots her a warning look. She puts her arms up in defense and Bellamy opens the door to Clarke, wearing a floral sundress and her hair down is waves around her shoulders.

“Hi,” she says, and Bellamy leans down to give her a kiss.

“Hi.”

“And, hi!” Octavia pipes in, appearing at Bellamy’s side. “I’m Octavia.”

Clarke beams. “Octavia, it’s very nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I have not heard quite _enough_ about you--”

“O--”

“Shut it, Bell. Let me win over your girlfriend with my endearing sass and charm.”

Clarke laughs. “You might already have done that,” she says with a wink. Octavia loops her arm through Clarke’s and drags her further into the apartment.

 

Bellamy cooks dinner and they are all sitting together chatting when Clarke slides her hand to Bellamy’s thigh, never leaving Octavia’s gaze as she talks about her graduation coming up. His heart flutters in his chest.

“Hey, so, I have an announcement.”

Clarke turns to him, slightly confused.

“I, um, got into college.”

It takes a minute for Clarke to register.

“Wait, oh my god, Bellamy!” She pushes back from her chair to wrap her arms around him. “That’s amazing!”

Bellamy smiles, suddenly a weight lifted from his chest. “So, um, I’m going to keep flying for the rest of the summer, but once August rolls around, I’m going to be back on campus, working on my degree in History.”

Clarke looks at him with so much love that he cannot even bring himself to care that it means they might not see each other as often.

She grabs his face and kisses him soundly. “I didn’t even know you had applied to go back.”

He shrugs. “I figure, Octavia is finished with school and supporting herself now… maybe it’s my turn.”

“Bellamy, _oh_ , Bellamy it is definitely your turn. If this is something you want!”

“I do, Clarke, I really do.”

He kisses her again, just because he can.

Later, after Octavia leaves and they are getting ready for bed. Clarke stops him, hand on his chest. “I love you, you know that.”

“I do,” he said, covering her hand with his own.

“And, I am so proud of you. Things might get hard, but even airplanes have to take off against the wind, right?”

“Right.”

* * *

“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind.”

**Henry Ford**

* * *

_fin_


End file.
